Throw Him A Dime
by 40socks
Summary: When Jack Dawson finds himself in the gateway to the afterlife, he has nothing to do but watch Rose keep her promise and wait for her to join him.


_A/N: I was playing around with Chapter 10 of The Impossible Wish while I was in the car on the way to San Diego. Instead, I had an idea for a one-shot. My portrayal of afterlife is unceremoniously ripped from Greek mythology, and is not intended to be religious. It also is slightly amended to fit my purposes._

**Throw Him a Dime**

"_My death waits like  
a beggar blind  
who sees the world with an unlit mind  
throw him a dime  
for the passing time_

_My death waits in  
your arms, your thighs  
your cool fingers will close my eyes  
let's not talk about  
the passing time _

But whatever is behind the door  
there is nothing much to do  
angel or devil I don't care  
for in front of that door  
there is you"

_-My Death by Jacques Brel (Translation by Mort Shuman)_

Jack Dawson didn't know where he was. He blinked open his eyes to reveal a dark room that was cavernous; cold, damp, and clammy. He slowly became aware of the remaining four senses. The smell was musty, he could taste nothing but the roof of his dry mouth, any sound present echoed around the labyrinth, he finally directed his hand to his thigh, feeling it to make sure he was whole. The whole experience made Jack think of death and decay. That was it, death.

As the events that lead up to Jack's arrival in this cave became clearer in his memory, he wondered if he might be—

"Am I—dead?" he voiced, his tongue feeling large, awkward, and out of practice.

"Finally realized it, have you? The rest have already woken up gone beyond." A deep voice materialized from within the darkness. As Jack turned to look where it was coming from, he could now see that he appeared to be on the bank of a river. Where it had previously been nothing but darkness, it seemed that every time Jack gave his attention to a new area of the cave, it was created in front of his eyes. When he had finally given it a thorough look, his eyes revealed a large, dank, grotto with a muddy river winding through it. The only decoration in the room was several mossy boulders littered around the dirt floor.

The man with the booming voice stepped out from what appeared to be a paddock near the river. He had long, straight hair that looked severely windswept. Though his chest and upper arms were bare and muscular, his legs were the legs of an animal. A goat perhaps. He was, however, strikingly tall. He towered several feet over Jack's head. "In case you haven't already remembered," he began to speak again, "In life your name was Jack William Dawson, son of Thomas Allan Dawson and Edith Porter Dawson, of Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, United States. You had no spouse and no children, you perished in—"

Jack had already remembered his name, and the details of his life were slowly coming back to him. He did not need to listen to the mysterious man drone on and on to remember his parents, his town, his friends, his travels, his love. His love. It finally hit him, his love was a young woman named Rose. All he needed, all he desperately needed to know, was if she had made it to safety.

"Rose! Rose isn't here, is she? Please." He demanded. The half man half goat gave Jack a glare and continued.

"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, my name is Charon. I am the ferryman into the afterlife. It is my job to row the newly departed souls across that river into the afterlife. I cannot tell you what you will see when you cross the river—"

Jack again tuned the voice out and drifted back to his thoughts. Though he was currently comfortable, he could still vividly imagine the coldness of the night. He waved his fingers around, proving to himself that they were mobile. Then he cupped his right hand back into the shape in which it had frozen. The shape in which his body had shared its final physical contact with Rose. As he stared at his hand, every thought went to her. She must have lived. He could not conceive the thought that she hadn't.

"I need to know," he interrupted Charon's speech again, "Did Rose survive the sinking. Tell me. Please, Mr. Ferryman. Please tell me she is alive."

"This seems to be really bothering you. Why don't you see for yourself?" Charon questioned, exasperated at Jack's disturbance.

"See for myself?"

Charon groaned. "Have you not been listening? There is a very strong connection between life, afterlife, and prelife. Before babies are born, they reside in the same realm as those that are no longer living. Ancestors and deceased friends care for their descendants' and loved ones' future children. The living often report connection to their loved ones during monumental occasions during their life. This is because those are the moments when the connection is the strongest. We can look down on those that we knew in life at any time. However, when they are wearing their emotions on their sleeves, we can send our spirits to be with theirs. They can then feel the connection too. Take, for example, a wedding. The emotions of the bride and groom are running wild, but they are also on display for the world. Our spirits can connect to these unconcealed emotions physically. They usually just suddenly think of a memory or feel the deceased's presence."

Jack just watched as Charon concluded his description. He nodded his head in awe, still yearning to know of Rose.

"Am I correct in assuming that the young lady to whom you are referring is one Rose Dewitt Bukater of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States?" Jack nodded, realizing that he had never gotten the chance to learn how to spell her name. Had he been able to feel emotions, the thought would have saddened him. "The one I mentioned in my synopsis of your life?" Jack had not listened to the synopsis of his life, but he was sure that she would have been mentioned.

"The very same," he replied.

"Good," continued Charon. "She survived the sinking of the Great Titanic. At this very moment, she is traveling towards New York on the rescue ship Carpathia." Jack let out a noticeable breath. "Across the river there is a large window to view the world. I only know of it because there is a similar but smaller window on this side. It is designed for when there are long lines to cross the river, such as the one two days ago."

Jack briefly wondered why there had been a long line two days ago until the morbid thought hit him. The line had been composed of all of the people who had died on Titanic before he had. It also struck him as strange that Charon would not know what was on the other side, but his next question was burning, so he had no time to contemplate.

"How can I see Rose through this window?"

Charon pointed to a small square of shiny black against one of the cavern walls, "Walk over there and say a name into the window. You have to have known the person in question, and you have to sincerely want to see him—or her." He added as an afterthought. Jack, however, was already bounding over to the minute square casement. He felt it longingly, and barely audibly, whispered the name.

The window brightened to show a dimly lit scene. It was a ship. There, wrapped in a sea green wool blanket, was Rose. Though the window's focus was on her, Jack could tell that she was sitting in the steerage section of the ship. It was a sunny day, though it was barely noticeable against the extreme sorrow of the scene. Rose's eyes looked tired, heartbroken, and completely shocked. Jack was mollified somewhat, though, as he saw the slow rise and fall of her chest. She was alive. She would live her full life and keep her promise.

Jack watched as a light sprinkle began to fall and the shadowy form of Cal Hockley wandered aimlessly around the deck. Jack saw Rose cover her head with the blanket and turn away. Then he saw Cal's defeated form receding.

"Good for you, Rose," he thought to himself. "You broke free. You saved yourself."

He ran another finger across the glass and continued to watch as the rain increased and Rose sat blindly on the deck. He reached his fingers into the pocket of his worn corduroys that he was still wearing. They fell onto the dime that Rose had given him for the portrait. It was the only physical thing she had given to him. He savored the feel of it in his hand, bringing it to his nose to relive her scent and rubbing it against his cheek to feel closer to her. He watched Rose's life continue to unfold as he turned the dime mindlessly in his hands.

The first time he could project his spirit to be with her, was when Rose took her look at the statue of Liberty. He had remembered looking forward to seeing it with Fabrizio. Watching it pass at Rose's side was a wonderful experience. His spirit latched onto Rose's emotions of sorrow and amazement.

"_Dawson," she had said, "Rose Dawson." Jack loved the sound of her voice. He had been unable to make out any sound when he had simply been watching through the window. He listened to Rose saying her name and his. He turned it over and over in his head, testing out the new name and instantly loving it. _

_Jack was absolutely astonished. He could tell that her thoughts were only on him. He could not feel the rain, but he saw it hitting Rose's face. The only thing he yearned for was the ability to feel Rose's skin, but his spirit form had no sense of touch. His spirit reached out its hand and placed it delicately on her cheek. A small smile spread across Rose's face as his hand made contact with her face. She looked meaningfully up to the sky, having felt his presence next to her. _

"Ready to come back, son?" Back in the clammy gateway to beyond, Jack was awoken from his stupor by Charon's voice. He was unhappy to be pulled from Rose's side, but he was reassured that she would be fine. He knew that she would even achieve happy in the foreseeable future. He gave the dime in his pocket another spin in his hands.

"Now that you have seen the properties of the window, I believe it is high time for you to cross the river."

"Okay, I know you said that you don't know exactly what is on the other side, but what can you tell me about it? Is it like here?"

"You are far too curious, my boy. Most people just pay the fee and go across. Though I cannot tell you what the other side looks like, for I don't know, I can tell you that you will be reunited with any friends and family members who have come before you. You can meet the ancestors who shaped your family, your parents. You exist not in one time period, but in the future and the past as well."

"Will I still be able to watch Rose?"

"Of course, Jack. I already told you there is a larger window to look down on the activities of the living world. You are the first person who has arrived here and questioned me so extensively. Most deceased are too eager to see their relatives."

"I of course want to see my relatives. It's been five years since I've seen my parents. I just wanted to find Rose first. I'm ready to go across."

"The fee is always a fairly small denomination coin for the deceased's currency. The Romans always came buried with two Drachmas buried on their eyelids. That made the fee paying much simpler. Unfortunately, that is very rarely practiced anymore. Most Americans die with some type of coinage in their pockets though, which makes my job easier. It was horrible in the Middle Ages. Even if someone died with money on his person, it was looted beforehe arrived here. It was a constant rotation of people getting stuck here because they could not afford the crossing. Finally people started dying with enough money for more than one to cross—anyways, I'm getting off topic. Let's see. You're American, it's," he checked a scroll, "April 1912. The fee will be ten cents. One dime."

Jack gasped. He immediately thought of the dime in his pocket. It was his most prized possession. The only physical thing of Rose's that he had ever possessed. He could not imagine giving it up simply for a passage across the river to afterlife.

"What if I cannot pay?"

"I told you, you remain here until someone dies with two dimes in his pocket. But I can see the dime in your hand."

"What if I don't want to pay?"

"I cannot imagine why you would not want to pay. Here it is so gloomy. There, you are with your long lost relatives. They will miss you deeply. There you will be loved. Here, you have no company but me."

"And that window," continued Jack.

"Yes," ceded Charon, "but there is a larger window across the river. You can see an even clearer picture of her."

"I'm not giving up this dime. She gave it to me. I'm staying here." Jack said, with a determined air of finality. He was finally comfortable with his death and he felt no qualms about staying here with Charon, his window, and his dime.

* * *

It was the one year anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Jack was watching Rose read the headline on the newspaper she had bought. He wanted her emotions to be strong enough for him to join her, but she kept them closely guarded. He could tell that she was afraid to let it affect her too much. It had been a year since Jack had been waiting in the gateway to afterlife. He still cherished his dime and he would never give it up. Jack did not feel he was missing out on any Xanadu by remaining here. He was even living life vicariously through Rose and his little casement.

"I never expected you to last a whole year," Charon finally commented. "No one has chosen to remain before, so I was sure you would cross after a few days."

"As long as Rose keeps her promise, I will not leave this spot. Since I cannot live out life with her, I intend to watch from here."

Silence fell for a moment before curiosity got the better of Jack. He had been wondering for almost the whole year why no one else had passed through since his death. When he relayed the question to Charon, he got laughter in response.

"You don't think that all I do is sit here and talk to you, do you?" he had said. "There have been thousands and thousands of souls here in the past year. Though there are several gateways to afterlife, this is one of the busiest. I ferry the dead from The Eastern United States, Great Britain, Ireland, Scotland, and everywhere in between. I heard some quite interesting comments during the American Revolution, let me tell you. 'Bloody Yankees,' and then the very next guy 'It was those redcoat bastards.' Anyways, you cannot interact with anyone beside me. The powers that be decided that it would be too much to die and then find yourself in a room full of people. That is why I come wake you up when I'm ready to take you across."

* * *

"_Are you ready, Miss Dawson? I'm confident you'll do very well." The man asking was short in stature, with a dark complexion and a furry moustache. _

"_I'm ready sir," Rose replied. At the man's cue, a fanfare began. Rose opened the door and heard the click of her pale pink high heel against the wood floor as she took a confident step out. As she was blinded by the bright light, Jack's spirit form withdrew to the back of the room. _

_Though he was sitting in the back of the room, he could see that the smile on Rose's face as she made her debut acting performance was genuine. She performed gracefully and beautifully. Had Jack been able to cry, he would have been moved to tears at the sight of his love performing with a passion that he had set free. He could almost make out her eyes glistening at the final curtain call. _

_Jack's spirit remained for a short while after the play had ended. He joined Rose in her dressing room, watched her receive flowers from a neighbor and the director of the play. He was the short man who had cued for the fanfare. As he handed her the flowers, he let himself in the room. _

"_You did amazingly. I expect a great review in the Times tomorrow. These are for you. There was only a single empty seat in the house tonight. I expect it to be sold out for the remainder of the engagement and for you, Miss Dawson, to have a long career in theatre."_

"_There was no empty seat," Jack thought. _

_As the director turned around to leave, Rose muttered under her breath, "There was no empty seat." _

Today, Rose was standing in the doorway to her dingy apartment, the landlord was on the other side, giving her obviously distressing news. Her face was calm, but hidden beneath her eyes, Jack could detect true fear. She had been fairly successful at the theatre for the past few years. Jack could not imagine what the landlord was telling her to leave that expression on her face.

Jack watched through his window as she packed up her few items of furniture, collected from the bank the meager sum she had earned from the theatre job, and headed for the train station.

"I really wish I could be there with her," Jack commented to Charon after he had watched her riding the cross country train for several days. "I loved her. Still do. I never got to tell her."

"I'm sure she knows, just look where she's headed." Charon replied.

At that, Jack turned, confused, back to the window. He found her in the train station in Albuquerque. He looked at the ticket in her hand. She was headed for Los Angeles, and would be travelling north to Santa Monica. It was only a day's train ride until she arrived, but the emotion when she finallyset her eyes upon the pier was enough to bring Jack's spirit hurdling down from the gateway.

"_Oh Jack, it's lovely." She had said, just barely aloud. He could hear her though, and reached out an arm to comfort her. He knew that all she felt was a warm breath and a memory, but he hoped it would give her some of a feeling for his love for her. _

_The train had arrived in the evening, and she had gone straight to the pier at sunset. He recognized it as a tribute to when they had first discussed Santa Monica. _

_Jack saw the tears flowing freely down Rose's cheeks as the surf curled around her feet. She was speaking to him. Her voice was hardly above a whisper, but he could hear her clearly. _

"_Jack what can I do? What would you do? Our country is entering the war, the theatre is temporarily closing, and my landlord is leaving for Europe, closing down his house. All of this is happening, and all I can think of is you. Here in Santa Monica, I feel you so close to me. What will happen? JACK! Oh Jack, I miss you so much." Her voice was slowly growing louder. Jack knew that she could not hear him, but he could not help himself from whispering back to her, "Rose, I love you, and I'm here with you. Forever and Always." _

_As his voice hung in the air, Rose covered her eyes with her hands and waded into the sea, letting the small waves hit her at her knees. She was no longer talking, and seemed much more content. Jack knew that she could never have heard him, but maybe she heard his message, deep down in her subconscious. _

"Is she the only one you watch?" asked charon, as he left the scene at the beach.

"I saw one of my friends from Chippewa Falls get his draft letter, but other than that I very rarely look away from Rose. I know very few people that are still living."

"But you're still not going to cross the river?"

"Of course not. That dime's all I've got."

* * *

Jack was turning the worn dime over and over in his hand. He brought it to his lips and gave it a kiss. Fifteen years had passed since the time on the beach. The year was 1932. Rose had made a pretty good life for a single woman. She had volunteered to help the war effort, had been close to going to Europe as a nurse, but Armistice Day luckily came before she left. Then, she remained in the Santa Monica area, doing some work in Hollywood. She kept in contact with no one from Titanic, making new friends everywhere she went, closely guarding the secret of Jack and her heart.

It had been less often that she had spoken desperately to Jack. Now, when her emotions were strong enough to pull him down to her, he felt he only needed to stand back and let her feel his presence. He felt that she was truly happy. Every time that Jack saw Rose smile, his own face echoed the gesture.

She had finally earned enough money to take a trip to Chippewa Falls. Jack had joined her as she visited his parents' graves. She then found a smooth white stone and placed it beneath a nearby tree. He had been with her as she tearfully removed a pocket knife from her handbag and carved his name in the tree. She then placed a light kiss on the scarred bark and replaced the knife.

Later, when the stock market crashed, Rose read of Cal's suicide. Since she had changed her name, Rose Dawson had never been wealthy, but lately she had been comfortable. Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time before she started losing acting jobs. Luckily, she found a caravan of a nice group of people headed north to Napa. They were in search of jobs picking fruit. It would be difficult work, hardly suited for a woman, but Rose agreed to try it. At the end of the summer, the owner of the vineyard asked her to stay on for the next summer.

This particular autumn day in Northern California, Jack was watching from his window as a smiling man handed a newspaper to Rose and a small group of others. They were the ones he had hired year-round to tend his farm. They all lived in a large cabin in the back. Among them was a young man named Ted Calvert. He was several years older than Rose. Jack thought he was very nice, he could even foresee Rose falling in love with him. As he thought more about Calvert, the idea did not trouble Jack very much. He knew he was envious, but he was even prouder of Rose for moving on. If Calvert could help her be happy and live her life, he was good in Jack's book.

As Rose picked up the newspaper, Jack read that Roosevelt had been elected. He hadn't followed politics in life, so he definitely didn't in death. This however, made Rose smile. Many others in the cabin either smiled or remained indifferent. He watched as she read the front page article out loud. When she had finished, Calvert walked over and hugged her. She melted into his embrace and sighed. Though Jack at first cringed, he trained his eye to look back and see how happy Rose was. He eventually smiled, knowing how happy he would make her in the future.

* * *

Another fifteen years had passed. Jack still valued his dime and the window through which he could watch Rose's life above reuniting with his family. He was with Rose as she heard the news of victory in Europe and later in Japan. He watched as she waited on the porch for Ted to return from the South Pacific.

It was a few months later when Charon came up to Jack with a swaddled bundle in his arms.

"This is the future Calvert baby. She has been with her grandparents across the river. Rose's father, however, allegedly heard your story and wants you to meet her. Remember when I told you that the dead look after their loved ones' future children?"

Jack did remember and was honored to be able to care for Rose's child. She and Ted didn't even know that she was pregnant yet, but Jack could already see Rose's eyes and hair in the small girl.

"I hope you enjoyed meeting your grandparents. It's too bad that you won't get to meet them when you're alive. But you will have the best parents you could ask for. I love your mother. She will absolutely love you. She is the best girl I have ever met, a heart so full of love. She has always wanted a child, ever since I made her promise she'd have a baby. I've never met your father, but your mother loves him, and I blindly trust her judgment. I'm sure as soon as your parents find out about you they will be so excited. There is always room for a little more love in that world." Jack said to the baby in his arms, and he truly meant it.

He rubbed the girl's tufts of red hair, and with a firm hand on her back, lifted her up to place a kiss on her forehead. She moved her tiny hands to touch the solid form that was now holding her up. The two cuddled with each other for quite a while. Jack even whistled a few bars of "Come Josephine" to the baby. Finally, Jack reached the dime out of his pocket, offering it to the little girl. "The scent on this is of your mother. Maybe it will be familiar by the time you're born," She placed a chubby index finger on the shiny head of the dime and let out a giggle.

Jack only met the young girl once more. He was watching through the window nine months later the pained expression on Rose's face, as the midwife was working on birthing the baby. The nurse was holding Rose's hand, whispering comforting thoughts. The scene was even more excruciating to watch in silence.

Finally, he saw the little purple ball that he barely recognized as the beautiful girl he had met in the midwife's arms. He watched as the door to the room swung open and the midwife called out. Rose noticeably relaxed. Then, only a moment later, Ted Calvert nervously walked in the door. The midwife offered him his daughter. Ted looked slightly skeptical, but took the bundle. As Rose opened her eyes, Jack found himself joining the happy family in the small room.

"_Rose, she is beautiful, little Mary Calvert is beautiful. Thank you." Ted said, leaning down to kiss his wife's sweaty brow. Jack had been standing in the corner, but he could not resist sitting in the chair next to Rose's bed. He wanted to be close to Rose and to the beautiful girl, now named Mary, that he had met. _

"_She needs a middle name, Ted." Said Rose. Jack grabbed her free hand, knowing that neither could feel the other. Rose however, turned the slightest turn to look almost at his face. "What about Josephine, after your sister?" _

_Jack literally gasped. He knew perfectly well that even if Ted did have a sister named Josephine, Rose was naming her daughter after the song she had sung with Jack. The song that Jack had whistled to her daughter. His spirit leaned down to kiss Rose's hand and then watched her grin grow larger. _

"_It's perfect, Rose," said Ted. _

"I know you said that you take the departed souls from the Eastern United States and England. Especially those in between. Rose still lives in California, what if that is where she dies?" asked Jack as the horrible thought occurred to him. What if he waited all those years to never see her again?

"She will not meet me, but my Western United States counterpart. Then she will cross that river into the same afterlife. After her death, you can never be separated," replied Charon.

Jack was visibly relieved. "Where, exactly, are we located geographically?"

"Nowhere that can be mapped or reached by the living. Though landmark wise, we are not actually too far from the location of the Titanic shipwreck."

* * *

It had been a hard day for Rose so far. The world was again at war. That seemed to be the theme for the twentieth century. This time the enemy was the Un-American evil of Communism. Mary Calvert and her two siblings were nearly grown. Rose was worried that as her son Robert's eighteenth birthday approached, the war would not be over and he would be chosen to go to Vietnam. Ted's health had been decaying for the past several years. Rose herself was beginning to show the years of her life on her face and in her silver hair. The previous night, Ted had suffered a heart attack. Rose was waiting by his bedside to see if the hospital staff would give him the clearance to go home.

Jack watched Rose with Ted as he died. He suffered a second heart attack, and though he was still in the hospital, it had instantly killed him. He wondered why life had been so cruel to such a wonderful lady. She had sat with three men that she loved and watched them dying, Ted, Jack himself, and her father. This time, however, each of her daughters had one of Ted's lifeless hands in theirs. Rose was just standing, somewhat shocked, against the wall of the white room. Her son's strong hand on her shoulder.

It was several years later that Mary Josephine Calvert announced that she would be getting married. Soon after, she gave Rose her first grandchild. Jack was not expecting to meet this baby, but he did get to hold him for a short while before he was delivered to the world.

"I knew both your mother and your grandmother. They were both amazingly beautiful and intelligent women. You are a very lucky boy to have them for a family."

Jack did not get to meet any of Rose's other grandchildren, though his spirit did come near her second grandchild, Robert's daughter Lizzie. Throughout the 70's and 80's Rose's extended family included her in all of their Christmases and birthday parties. She had been an amazing mother and a wonderful grandmother. In her widowhood, she took up many different hobbies. She tried pottery and kept a vegetable garden. She crocheted until her eyesight deteriorated too much. She pretended to give her young grandchildren dancing lessons, though she was tired out after only a few minutes. The one endeavor she avoided was drawing, though she would never give her family a reason why. Jack was pretty sure that she wasn't quite ready to relive the memories. The years after Ted's death were overall very happy for Rose.

* * *

The years of rubbing the dime between his fingers had worn down the raised surface. It had dulled somewhat in the eighty four years since it had seen the real world. Jack still treasured the dime and refused to give it up. He was watching Rose finish a project on the pottery wheel before she stood up to look at the television. Through Rose's eyes, Jack saw the image on the television screen, and said to no one but himself, "Well I'll be God Damned!"

There, on the television box in Lizzie's house, was the drawing that he so vividly remembered. The drawing that he had exchanged for his beloved dime. The drawing whose image sent Rose on a helicopter to a small boat halfway across the world.

"I can feel her, Charon, she's close," Jack said, practically giddy, when the helicopter landed.

"Remember? I told you that we were near the site of the Titanic shipwreck. She is very physically close to you. I also do believe that her connection to the afterlife is growing stronger. Your wait is almost over."

Though Jack had become very good friends with Charon over the years, he was very eagerly anticipating allowing him to row him into the afterlife. He was desperate to feel Rose's soft skin again.

_It was that thought that was still in Jack's mind as he saw the helicopter landing on the back of the Keldysh. The Rose who was pulled out of the chopper was barely recognizable as the young red-haired girl except to someone who had been watching her every day for eighty four years. _

_For the first time, she looked his spirit self directly in the eye, and gave a slightly clumsy, yet very warm smile. He remained at her side for the entirety of the story she had to tell. When she arrived at some of the parts that were harder to tell, he would whisper in her ear to continue. He still did not believe that she could hear him, but he did acknowledge the strengthened connection. He held her hand, intertwining his spirit's fingers with her solid ones throughout the story. As he listened to her tell of the ship sinking and waiting in the frozen water, his spirit moved to kneel in front of her and rest his head in her lap. He clutched both of her hands in his. He was trying to mimic the position in which he had last held her hand. With all of his heart, soul, and mind, Jack willed Rose to come meet him. _

"_I've missed you," he pleaded. "I've missed you so desperately. You've kept your promise and told our story. You are finally ready."_

_Rose had many expressions on her face. She was mostly relieved, partly filled with love for the subject of her story and her granddaughter, partly tired after spending the day storytelling, and a little bit saddened. Jack's spirit helped her slowly arise from her chair. They both went to the bow of the Keldysh. Jack watched as Rose flung the valuable necklace that held so many memories overboard. He saw it so sailing down to his own watery grave. He then walked to her warm bed in the cabin. They both took one last look at all of the pictures on the nightstand, and he tucked her into bed. _

"_Jack," he wasn't sure if he was imagining Rose's voice say his name out loud for the first time in many, many years. "Is that you?" it asked, a bit louder. No, he was not imagining things. _

"I'm ready, Charon." Jack said meaningfully. "I'll really miss you." He wasn't sure if the second part of the statement was directed at Charon or at the dime. Charon smiled back and held out the tin cup that collected the coins. Jack stepped back and tossed the worn dime in. Then, he stepped onto Charon's little boat and let himself be carried across the river.

"So you still can't tell me what's on the other side? I've been a little bit curious," teased Jack.

"I really can't tell you. It's different for everybody, but considering that you and Rose died in the same geographical location, I can make a pretty good guess."

At that exact moment, the small boat struck the other shore. Jack could see nothing but bright white light. After a moment, the intricate doors were opened to reveal the Grand Staircase of Titanic. He smiled to see everyone who had perished all those years ago. He knew Rose was coming very quickly though, so he ran up the stairs to meet her when she arrived. Turning around he saw…

* * *

Rose Calvert opened her eyes to reveal a musty, cavernous room. It was dark, cold, and moist. She instantly knew she was dead, but the thought did not frighten her. She had been ready for several years. She had just been waiting for her subconscious to believe that Jack had given his approval.

"Ah yes, I've been expecting you, Miss," she heard a deep voice, the voice of a half man half goat emerge from the darkness.

"In case you haven't already remembered, in life your name was Rose Calvert, nee Dawson, nee Dewitt Bukater." He continued. "You were the daughter of—Oh just screw the speech. You know he's waiting for you on the other side of the river, right?"

"I do indeed. Please take me there."

"Ten cents. One dime."

Rose quickly dug through her pockets and pulled out a dull 1996 dime. She playfully tossed the dime in the tin, but gasped at the sight of the very well worn dime whose year was no longer readable. She would have wagered anything, though, that it had been 1912, and that she hadseen that dime before.

Then, she stepped into charon's boat and allowed him to row her across the river. When they hit the opposite bank, she could see nothing but bright white light. After a moment, the intricate doors were opened to reveal the Grand Staircase of Titanic. She smiled to see everyone who had perished all those years ago. At the base of the clock tower, she could see Jack. She ran up the stairs as fast as her younger self could and instantly kissed his mouth as his figure turned around.

* * *

Rose and Jack Dawson were sitting in their small home for eternity. It was a second class stateroom aboard the shipwreck that had so thoroughly changed their lives. It was designed simply, with only a handful of art decorating the walls. Just outside of the door was a large window for viewing the world. The two were holding hands and watching Rose's grandchildren playing a game of baseball in the backyard.

"I have always loved your children and grandchildren."

"I do to. I even see traces of you in Mary."

"I was there for her birth. I even met all of your children before they were born."

"That's lovely, Jack. I named all my children after you, you know."

"I know about Mary Josephine, and Robert John, which can be shortened to Jack. But what about Emily Georgia?"

"When I was working that job at the post office during the war, someone once had a letter sent to Dawson, Georgia. I wanted to visit that town for a very long time. I even became obsessed with it. I soon became pregnant with Mary and then was too busy to travel across the country to see a sign with my—uh—maiden name on it. When I gave Emily that middle name, I was calmed somewhat. I never did get to see the town, but I'm actually alright with that."

Jack couldn't help but laugh.

"And I'm sure you know Ted didn't stand a chance. I loved him, I really did, but it was your name on my lips as I died."

Jack smiled warmly at her, "I heard, Rose, I heard. Besides, there's always room for a little extra love in this world."

Rose leaned her young head on his young shoulder, and they headed back into their home, away from the window to the grandchildren.

_B/N: Hey! My name is Sara. I am 40socks' roommate. The lucky girl is currently soaking up rays in San Diego while I'm still here in Connecticut freezing. Anyways, she told me that she wrote this in the car while trying to work on the next chapter of The Impossible Wish. She gave me the OK to type this out and post it on her account. Any typos are mine. It is nearly 7000 words though, so there are bound to be a few. When she gets back in a week or so, she can re-edit my typing and get some serious work done on her chaptered story. That's straight from the horse's mouth, ya'll. _

_Alright guys,I'm 40socks and I'm back. I edited a handful of typos out of this story, but overall Sara did a most excellent job of decifering my awful handwriting. I also clarified a few ambiguous sentences. And,Mr. Calvert was originally named after FDR, because I introduced him in the same paragraph. However,it was a stupid mistakeon my part, so I switched Roosevelts. Besides, Ted is a cooler name than Frank anyways. I am almost done writing the next chapter of IW. Then, I will edit it and, barring any crises, it should be posted early next week. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
